with you. Potential negative publicity, backlash about the department being slack and all that.” She still looked as if she was in shock. He signed, “So do you want to drive, or should I?”
Two hours later, ensconced in a state van—the transportation people had taken pity on Josh’s very long legs and provided the larger vehicle rather than the usual tiny Taurus—Ethan found himself with special permission to drive, Josh in the back and Marianna in the passenger seat.
He didn’t have to have special training in reading body language to understand what hers shouted. Arms crossed, toe tapping the floor board, chin jutted, jaw tight, lips pursed. Yep, she was mad. In her eyes, he was tramping all over her independence; no doubt making her feel like he thought she needed a keeper. He refused to tell her he was just as thrilled with this assignment as she.
God, I remember specifically praying that You NOT use me to watch out for her. Yet here I am. Exactly what do You have in mind?
Not really expecting an answer but hoping for one regardless, Ethan drove along silently, waiting—and watching his back. Not a lot of traffic was a good thing, since it allowed him to see each and every car that came near.
“I can take care of myself, you know.”
The words came out machine-gun fast, startling him into looking at her for a brief moment. Eyes back on the road, he could feel her staring at him. Quirking a brow, he tilted his head so she could see his lips. “Really? Like you did last night?”
She wilted. “Well, no. Last night was…horrible. Terrifying. I just meant I’m perfectly capable of driving myself and a student to Beaufort, South Carolina.”
“Marianna, I never questioned your abilities. But who knows what this guy is capable of?” On impulse, he reached over and took her hand to give it a squeeze. “I… we…just want to make sure that nothing happens to you.”
Narrowed eyes nailed him. “Then why didn’t you want to come?”
Her question sucker punched him. She’d read him, his reluctance. “No offense, but I don’t want to talk about that.”
The fact that she let it go amazed him. “Then tell me about your sister.”
Another direct hit, that one to the gut. He swallowed— hard. “Ashley was…amazing. She went to the deaf school.”
“Ashley O’Hara.” Realization dawned. “I knew her. The girl who was killed in the parking lot of the local high school by the…”
“…drag-racing teens,” he finished. “Yeah, she’d been to a ball game with some of her hearing friends from church. They were a little late getting back, and with the parking lot almost empty, she wasn’t paying attention when she headed toward…” The lump in his throat surprised him. After almost three years you would think he’d be at the point where he could at least talk about the accident without getting so emotional. If only the regret, the feeling of being responsible for…
“Oh, Ethan, I’m so sorry.”
Fresh guilt sideswiped him. He dodged it. “She would be twenty years old this year.”
“And the boys who were responsible? I don’t think I ever heard what happened.”
“It was ruled a negligent vehicular homicide. Both boys had stiff fines and the one who actually hit her served some jail time. They’re still doing community service stuff.”
Time to change the subject. He asked, “Did you call the school dormitory and cancel basketball practice yesterday?”
Blinking at the sudden turn, she answered, “No, of course not.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Someone called the dormitory on the TTY and pretended to be you, canceling practice.”
Anger flashed over her features, mixed with fear and frustration. “So, this person not only knows my schedule, but also knows who to call, how to call and what to say to impersonate me.”
“I’ve got Catelyn working on tracing the phone call. Unfortunately, I wouldn’t hold my breath on finding anything out there.”
“I know. That call could have been placed from anywhere that has a public TTY.” She leaned her head against the window, staring at the passing scenery. Josh held a Nintendo DS game that kept him enthralled.
Unable to stop himself, Ethan reached over to grasp her hand once more. Her eyes shot to his. He squeezed, a gentle pressure meant to offer reassurance. He felt the fragile bones, the slender, graceful fingers, and he appreciated her courage as she gave him a wobbly smile and squeezed back.
Ethan returned his attention to the road. Checked the side mirror, the rearview mirror.
Made a mental note about the car coming up behind them.
And noticed it was coming fast.
NINE
Marianna registered the sudden tensing in Ethan’s shoulders, his body’s abrupt shift to alert mode. Wondering at the lightning-fast change, she watched his eyes, not wanting to ask and take his concentration from whatever it was that grabbed his attention.
Flicking a glance in her side mirror, she noticed the black car approaching at a high rate of speed. Instant terror blindsided her. “Ethan?”
“Just hold tight.” She caught the words even though they were muttered between clenched teeth.
Ethan kept his eyes fixed on the road before him as well as the car behind him. Marianna did the same. Closer, closer. Bracing herself for either the impact or Ethan to swerve suddenly, she was almost floored by surprise when the car flew past in the left lane. Then relief left her shaking.
A breath blew out of Ethan, and she watched the tension ease from him, his fingers relaxing their white-knuckle intensity on the steering wheel.
“Wow.” Marianna couldn’t keep the word from slipping out.
“Yeah.”
Josh continued to play his game in the back, oblivious to the tension oozing from the front seats.
“That was a government car. I glimpsed the license plate as he went by. Stupid. Driving like that. Guy must have been going ninety-five, a hundred miles an hour.” Disgust emanated from him.
“Maybe there was an emergency somewhere.”
“Humph. In the form of being late for some bureaucratic meeting or something.”
Marianna gave him a grin, glad she could find it now that the false alarm had passed. “Don’t have a very high opinion of our government officials, do you?”
He slanted her a glance and offered a wry smile. “Only a select few.”
Absentmindedly she wondered out loud, “I wonder how the campaign will handle Mr. Luck’s death. I guess Steven Marshbanks will have his work cut out for him, although maybe moving from assistant to the campaign manager position into the primary campaign manager position won’t be a big deal for
